The Fallen

by Ali Winters

  He raised his hands, hovering over her, and weaved his powers. Black like ink seemed to leak from his fingertips as he created the spell that would keep her asleep. A sleep from which she would never wake. The darkness floated like a heavy cloud, drifting slowly to blanket her.

  It seeped into her. Yeva’s body trembled from absorbing a magic so foreign to her. The touch of death no doubt waged war upon her own powers within.

  His touch was poison. Keeping her so close to death, killing what she once felt in her heart for him.

  He deserved to lose everything for this betrayal.

  If only the Moirai had called to them both, if only they had demanded this price from her as well, rather than forbidding him to tell her the truth of it all. Perhaps then he might still be standing at her side.

  But wishing was for fools. Fate was as the Moirai decreed it to be, and nothing he wanted would ever change that.

  Yeva settled then went still. Silas eyed white flowers a few feet away. He stooped to pluck a handful then arranged them around Yeva’s head. A halo made brilliant by her auburn locks spread out on the stone.

  Silas moved back. She only appeared to be on the cusp of waking. His hands trembled. “Two halves of a whole. Life and death are meant to work together, for you cannot have one without the other.”

  It was what Gaia had told them. His first memory of Yeva… Hell, it was his first memory of his entire existence.

  “I am so sorry, Yeva. I never wanted it to come to this.” Silas hung his head. “I love you… I always have. I just wish you could have the chance to understand why I did what I did… Even if you never forgive me.”

  Then Silas spun on his heel and walked away for the last time. If he didn’t leave now, he would linger too long. His presence a threat to the spell he put her under.

  He waved his hand in the air, shrouding the mountain itself with the touch of death. Any human who would come near would become disoriented and lost in the cold until they perished. Their life force would never be recovered, but left to fade into oblivion. He could not risk even a single Reaper finding this sanctuary where Yeva now slept.

  He flung his hood over his head and transported into the deepest depths of G.R.I.M. Headquarters.

  The lowest level had never before felt so lonely. But perhaps that had little to do with the large expanse of nothing but stone walls and everything to do with losing Yeva.

  He strode into the altar room and snatched up both chalices. It would not do to have the Watchers chalice where it could be easily found.

  It might come in handy one day. Though he could not imagine what use he might have of it now, he wanted to know where it was at all times. Its presence a form of reassurance that all was as it should be.

  Silas strode to the dark alcove in the back, where the Waters of Soyala sat hidden from sight.

  He pulled back the curtain and ascended the single step of the raised dais then slipped the Watchers chalice into a groove. Silas flicked a finger and the shadows stretched over the sacred object, concealing it from view.

  With the dark energy of the waters to disguise any life giving magic the chalice might give off, it would never be noticed. Unless one knew what to look for.

  He placed the Reapers chalice a few inches in front of it. The obsidian scraping against the stone lip where it sat. Not a single thing looked or felt out of place.

  It was done, this part at least.

  There were still a few things he had to take care of. Silas rolled his shoulders. He already felt the weight of all that had transpired pushing down on him. He was tired and drained. Though how much of it was from the over use of his powers or if it was—

  Silas straightened the clasp of his cloak at his throat and thrust his shoulders back.

  The night had taken a toll on him and his powers would be tested, pushed to their breaking point, by the time he was finished with all he had left to do.

  Silas stepped off the dais and closed the curtain, concealing the cove, then headed to the workbench along the front wall to summon his Second to his side.

  SILAS

  SILAS PLUCKED UP a small piece of parchment and wrote Caspian’s name down. Only minutes after it vanished, Caspian strode through the stone doors, closing them gently, though the clang still echoed through the massive room.

  “I was beginning to worry about you. It has been almost a full day since you sent us away.”

  Silas couldn’t help the grimace he made at the words. Thankfully, Caspian didn’t question the look. He rubbed his forehead, already beginning to pound from the power he would need to expend.

  “I was making sure everything was safe… and that something like this could never happen again,” Silas said. Even he could hear the exhaustion in his words.

  Worry darkened his Second’s expression. Silas knew there were a million questions Caspian could ask, and deserved to ask. Yet the man before him remained silent, and, for that, he was grateful.

  “This ordeal is not yet over. I will need your assistance with the final part,” Silas said. He jerked a hand through his long blond hair as he straightened the strands, retying them in a leather cord. “Gather all of the Guardians and bring them here.”

  “All of them?” Caspian took in the space of the room, and, though large, he knew it would never hold every Guardian at once.

  “Of course it must be done in batches, but, before the day is through, every last one must pass though these doors.”

  Caspian dipped his chin, accepting the unorthodox assignment. “What is the plan… if I may ask?”

  Silas debated on telling him, or keeping it from him. In the end, he decided the weight of the secrets he already kept were heavy enough. He could be honest with his friend in this. “I plan to wipe their memories of the Watchers, of this war… of everything outside of G.R.I.M. and them completing their marks.”

  Caspian took a step back, or he might have stumbled, it was hard to tell. He shook his head. “I do not want to forget. I’ve already lost her once. I—” Whatever he would have said next caught in his throat.

  He still cared for Nivian, and that pain would eat at him. Yet, Silas couldn’t stand the thought of breaking his friend’s heart yet again.

  Silas let out a low breath then said, “I will allow you to keep your memories intact.” He held up a finger to stop him from interrupting. “You may keep your memories as a safety measure, but you are forbidden from ever saying anything of the Watchers, the details of this dissension that happened here, or of Nivian’s existence before she became a Guardian. And if you do, I will not hesitate to rip them from your mind as well. Do you understand?”

  Caspian nodded.

  “I think it would also be wise if you kept your distance from her as well. Assign her marks, teach her anything she needs to know, but nothing more. You are her superior, and I do not want her to feel as if she’s had a history outside of reaping.”

  Hurt flashed in Caspian’s eyes. There was no way to win. If he took his memories, then he would have to deal with her loss again. But forbidding him to seek her out seemed to cause him almost as much pain. He would hurt for a long time, loving her from a distance.

  “If that is all,” Caspian said as he bowed.

  Silas raised a hand, about to dismiss him when he stopped. “Yes, there is one more thing.” Caspian cocked his head to the side. “You will spend the majority of your time in the office at the top from now on. You will be in charge of handing out all the marks. I will assist you when there is need for mass reapings.”

  “Where will you go?” It was a question that could have been filled with accusations, yet, instead, it was heavy with worry.

  Silas swept his hand out, gesturing at the room they stood in. “I will be here.”

  “I understand.” Is all Caspian said for several long seconds. “Are you sure you want to wipe them all now? You could rest—”

  “No. The sooner we get this done, the better… and the faster we will get everything back on ba
lance. Go, we must begin soon.”

  Caspian turned and left without another word.

  Silas walked toward the back of the room, waiting for the first group of Guardians to arrive, and pulled his hood over his head.

  Shame washed over him in a sickening wave. He had always given his Guardians their own will, had allowed them to live as they pleased so long as they remembered that keeping the balance between life and death was their prime directive. He had wanted for them what he had once had with Yeva.

  And now… now he was stealing that part from them, and they would never know the difference. But he would.

  It seemed an eternity had passed before the first Guardian came into the room, then a stream of them soon followed.

  Caspian came in last, closing the doors behind them. They did not need any Guardians overhearing what was said before it was their turn.

  The Guardians stiffened at the sound, but none made to move.

  Silas loosed his powers, filling the room, surrounding each and every one… save for Caspian. He let his power fill them, let it find the core of who they were and shroud their memories in a darkness that would eat away at them until they were gone for good.

  He had taken something vital away from the Watchers, had taken much of their strength so they could not hunt down the Dark Guardians and threaten the balance again. He had destroyed everything because he had to take something even more precious than power from his own.

  Silas closed his eyes and worked to keep his breathing slow and steady.

  Those before him would be reduced to nothing more than what they did. Barely individuals. Silas began to pull his power back into himself and paused, adding a damper on their emotions. They would still feel, but it would not come naturally to any of them. They would not become callous, but would lean toward dismissing whatever they felt as nothing more notable than a single fruit fly in the summer months.

  Yeva’s words came back to him. “You cannot reap them without destroying all of your precious Reapers to keep it intact!”

  Could he call them Guardians anymore? All they would know was reaping. It would be their only thought, their only purpose. Beings sent to reap mortals and collect their life forces to be sent to Gaia for renewal. It seemed Yeva’s name for them would be more fitting after all.

  The corner of his mouth tilted up. It would be a reminder for him to never forget what had transpired these last weeks.

  Gaia. The guilt that twisted his gut was more than he could stand. He lifted his hood and used his power to darken the shadows around his face so they could not see the guilt that filled him.

  “Reapers,” he called. His voice boomed throughout the room. Saying it out loud gave the situation a finality he hadn’t expected. “I have called you here today to remind you all of our purpose. We serve the balance, and we must maintain it at all costs. There is no place in our existence for anything else. When you are not reaping, your time is yours to do with as you please, but it is best suited to studying and regaining your energy within our realm. Too much time in the mortal realm will only serve as a distraction. The balance is all that matters.”

  As he spoke, reiterating everything they already knew, he could see their memories being dragged forward in the pained expressions on their faces as he buried them, locked them away, and set to destroying them.

  Their minds were clay and he was the sculptor. He changed them to something other, painting a picture of the life of a Reaper. Removing the names they had called themselves and others until only Reaper and mortal remained.

  The room filled with silence as he finished speaking. Each of them nodded once, taking this information as if it were all truth. Taking this new life he had handed to them.

  They remained in a dazed trance. Aware, and yet part of them not. They would remain in that state long enough for him to get through every last one, allowing him to tie up all loose ends. Then, slowly, the trance would break, freeing them.

  When his eyes finally landed upon Nivian, he took extra care with her. He cloaked the memory of her death, but it was the memory of her life, her relationship with Caspian, that he could not allow to return. If anything, this would be the dam that could break and ruin everything he had done today.

  He chipped away at the memories, but they would not break. He bared down on them and still they would not be destroyed. He would spend every last drop of his power trying to whittle away at them and still there were so many Reapers to go. So he settled for heaping layer after layer after layer after layer of darkness upon them.

  In a day, they would all be unaware of the meeting, unaware of their history and everything that had gone so horribly wrong. They would be none the wiser.

  Silas finally pulled back his magic. The Reapers before him stood attentive and wide eyed. First, they filled with bright light, then they went dark, pupils dilated, expressions blank. They were essentially blank with everything he’d taken from them.

  Silas dismissed them, then motioned for Caspian to bring the next group in.

  On and on it went. One group, then the next, then the next, and the next, until every last Reaper had been touched by his power, had been changed and altered forever.

  Silas could barely keep himself from collapsing as the last of them left. Only Caspian remained behind. He waited silently, having witnessed it all.

  Did he think him a monster? He would have every right to feel that way after witnessing the way he had manipulated and played with the minds of everyone they knew. As if he had the right, as if he were one of the old gods.

  “Do you need anything else, my lord?” Caspian asked.

  Silas resisted the urge to react to the sudden formality. He was upset. Silas couldn’t fault him for that.

  “No,” Silas said quietly, watching Caspian turn to leave.

  Silas closed his eyes and, when he opened them again, he sent a tendril of power toward Caspian. Caspian paused, hand on the door as the dark swirling power snaked through his back, unbeknownst to him, and worked its way through his mind, stealing his memories and changing them.

  He would think the balance didn’t need the Watchers anymore, that they had all been killed. That only the Reapers had survived and had ended the war with their superiority.

  Silas went to destroy the memories of Nivian, so he would never know that pain again. But he couldn’t bring himself to do it. Instead, he withdrew, letting his friend keep the one thing he had left.

  Caspian half turned and Silas thought he might rail about the betrayal. But several heartbeats later, Caspian opened the doors and walked out, leaving Silas in that large empty room alone, with only the echo of the stone doors for company.

  NIVIAN

  NIVIAN BLINKED AND rubbed at the dull throb pulsing in her head. All around her, dozens of Reapers stood in small groups having conversations, while others, like her, stood alone. She was in the Great Hall, though she couldn’t remember how she’d gotten there.

  She took a step forward, then stopped. What had she been doing? Where had she been going?

  The pain pounded harder against her skull, her thoughts felt laden with fog. Everything seemed to be exactly as it always had been… and yet, something she couldn’t quite put her finger on felt different.

  Nivian shook her head, trying to clear her mind. It was as if she had woken from a deep sleep and could not shake the heaviness of it.

  A cool breeze flitted past and she closed her eyes, letting it wash over her. Fresh air would help. She turned toward the round garden at the back of Headquarters and stopped when something crinkled beneath her boot.

  Backing up, she looked down at a scrap of parchment. Nivian picked it up and read the swirling letters scrawled across it. “Nivian, top floor.”

  That’s right. She must have dropped it. That had been where she was headed. At least, she remembered now. What would happen if she failed to report for an assignment was not something she wanted to find out.

  Nivian wended her way past the others and h
urried up the stairs to the office at the top of the spire. Her fingers glided along the obsidian banister, a feeling so familiar and, yet, foreign. Even the walk down the long hall felt different, off if not eerie.

  Of course she’d been there before, though the feeling of change would not leave her. Something small but none the less significant. And she wondered if it was because she was still so new or because she had—

  Nivian frowned. She had done something recently that made her feel drained.

  Before she could recall any details, she stood before the office. Behind her, the long expanse of windows opened up to look upon Mophar for as far as the eye could see. The Forest of Ari to one side, and tall jutting mountains on the other.

  Being called for an assignment was like breathing air, yet this time something seemed to be missing. She raised her hand and knocked firmly on the massive wooden doors. That strange, uneasy feeling continued to follow her with every step she took.

  “Come in, Nivian,” a dark, rich voice called out.

  She pushed open the doors and entered. Caspian sat at the large mahogany desk, writing what she assumed were assignments, letting the ink dry then moving on to the next, and the next.

  She crossed to the center of the room and waited for him to address her.

  After several moments, Caspian set down his pen and looked up. “Thank you for—” His words trailed off. Concern darkened his eyes. “Nivian, is something the matter?”

  She clasped her hands in front of her and chewed on the inside her bottom of her lip. Was something wrong with her? How much should she say? The last thing Nivian wanted to do was draw negative attention to herself. So she plastered a smile onto her face.

  “Nothing, my lord.” She dipped her head in a reverent bow. “You summoned me?”

  When she looked up again, Caspian stood before her, smiling down. A momentary warmth bloomed across her cheeks.

  “Thank you for being so patient, Nivian.”